A Happy Moment
by CannibalDinner
Summary: Francis owns a flower shop, and sometimes he feels that simple things such as flowers could make the world seem like a better place. A stranger comes along, who seems to have nothing. Francis does a simple act and goes out his way to make that person's day better. Human AU, RusFra
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello you all who bothered to read this! Sorta my first time posting a fanfic of mines! I don't know if I'll add chapters or make it just a one shot thing. Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

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Francis watched the man at a distance, giving the other time to decide what he would want to buy. It was an unusually tall man who had to hunch over to sniff and observe the sunflowers. A rather thinning scarf was wrapped around snuggly around his neck. His clothes were plain, probably a bit poor, thought Francis.

The Frenchman rested his elbows on the counter, trying to decide whether to tell the customer that his store was closing. It was already fairly dark outside and Francis really wanted to get home. But if a customer was buying, he certainly wasn't going to rush them.

The man seemed to have made up his mind, pulling a pretty glass vase with a bunch of sunflowers in it closer to him. Then he put his hand in his pockets and seemed to be feeling around or something. But then his shoulders slumped down, his hand coming out empty-handed. He slowly pushed back the vase back to its place, his face was pointed to the ground and an air of sadness surrounded the man.

He was silent and slowly made his way towards the door, not acknowledging Francis. Francis made a split decision right then and there, feeling a hard tug in his heart. He sensed that the man probably didn't have the money to buy what he wanted. Quickly he slipping out from behind the counter to get the sunflowers the man couldn't get.

"Ah, monsieur! Wait!" he said, rushing to the other with the vase before he could walk out of the store.

The man spun around, his eyes slightly widen when he saw the blonde with the vase. His hand was already clutching the door to open, but he let go and turned around fully to face the other. His mouth was slightly parted, not knowing what to say or make out from the current situation. Francis stopped in front of the customer, extending the vase to give to the customer. The man seemed to be slightly confused and lost, so Francis explained a bit more.

"I am the owner of the store, Francis Bonnefoy…take these flowers. Ce sont très belles, oui?" He asked, smiling to comfort the other. He handed the man the vase of flowers, not really giving the other a choice to keep it or not.

The other's fingers gripped the vase tightly, his head tilting down. His silver-blonde hair covered his eyes and any emotions that might've exposed any emotion. But then his lips twitched up, as if a smile was trying to bloom. He managed to let out a shaky smiled, and replied in a rather thick Russian accent, "Spasibo, Francis." Was all he said, before awkwardly shifting his feet.

Francis nodded, a warm feeling swelled up in his chest. "Pas de problème. It's yours to keep, don't worry about having to pay." He assured the man. "Enjoy them, and come back again if you can!" he added as the tall man stepped out of the shop.

The door closed and the Frenchman was alone in his flower shop. It felt like hours went by as he stood in the same spot and wondered about the stranger. However he felt proud of himself of possibly brightening someone's day with his flowers, despite not gaining any money. It isn't always about money, he thought. And one time doesn't hurt, it would be fine. He smiled to himself and went back to closing up the shop. Maybe the man will come back, one day.

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Translations:

Ce sont très belles, oui? : They are beautiful, yes?

Spasibo: Thank you

Pas de problème: No problem/you're welcome

I don't know if the French parts are right, despite taking French classes for 4 years now. Anyway, reviews or cute little comments would be great! Thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 2: We Meet Again

A/N: Ahh so people seemed to have liked it so far! This will not be a one shot~ And I managed to make this a lot longer! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I will never own Hetalia.

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The days went by and the image of the stranger's face always lingered in the back of Francis' mind every day. He always felt a pang of excitement each time he heard the bell at the door chime, or footsteps coming around from behind a corner. But it was never the man.

Months passed by, and at this point Francis' knew he should give up in defeat. He wouldn't though; oh the sunflowers that he had wouldn't allow him to forget. Francis now always made sure to always make the sunflower arrangement the prettiest, or put it in display where the whole world to see. Maybe for his friend to see. He always scoffed at himself for thinking such thoughts, for becoming so attached to somebody he didn't know.

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The wind was shrieking in his ears and whipped his hair around. It kept sending shivers down his spine as the cold air managed to find its way into crevices of his clothing in the winter night. Francis was in a rush, his warm breath colliding with the cold air around created small puffs that didn't linger for long.

Business was slow this time of year, but it allowed him to close the shop earlier than usual. He could spend the extra time doing whatever he wanted. Today however there was a blizzard warning set for a few hours later, but people could already feel it coming. Francis hurried over to the store to stock up on supplies for his apartment before the weather could go for a nasty turn.

All the grocery bags were weighing him down in the snow, and if he had a choice he would've taken his car. But with the snow it made it too dangerous to drive, and besides, he lived a few blocks away from the store anyway.

Francis stopped to rest, sitting at a bus bench to set down his items. The snowflakes were making it painful to see as it kept getting into his eyes. He was nearly home though, but it wouldn't be fast enough like he wanted. Francis inspected his area and tried to see if there were any shortcuts he could take.

His eyes stopped at a park not far from his location. It he cut through there, he would save himself at the very least 10 minutes from the wretched cold weather.

'You can make it.' Francis thought to himself. 'A warm bed and bath awaits you at home.' It brought back a little bit more power to push himself back up and lift his groceries again, and he sprinted towards the park.

'Maybe this was a bad idea.' He miserably speculated, finding himself slightly lost in the rather large park area. Everything was white and there was a forest of trees that bordered and hid the rest of the outside world. Francis marched on forward, hoping that luck would be on his side.

He walked through a clump of trees, but tripped over a large object on the ground and his face came in contact with the cold snow.

"Oof! Merde!" He cried out, giving him a shock as he scrambled up to brush the snow away. Francis looked around to see what he came in contact with, his groceries luckily still intact in their bags and in his hands. He set them down though, seeing that whatever he tripped over was more than just a rock or a branch.

It was a body of a man, all curled up in a tattered blanket and trembling slightly. Francis got closer to gape at the person. If he stayed out here they would freeze to death overnight. Francis quickly got down to his knees next to the person, trying to wake them up.

"Hello? Pardon-moi," he yelled out. "Mon ami, you need to –"

The blonde stopped. It was the man, the same man who he gave the sunflowers to. His hand shook as he brushed strands of the silvery hair back away from the face. He even had the same scarf on and everything. Francis panicked, unsure what to do.

"I can't leave you here! You'll die!" he cried out, shaking the other in hopes to wake him up. But to no avail, the man didn't even stir. Francis stood up and covered his cheeks in dismay. He would take the man back to his apartment. But how? He still had his groceries to carry.

He took a moment to breathe, then decided to only pick out the things he needed most. Francis managed to reduce what he needed into 2 bags, but tried to ignore the feeling of the wasted money and good food he brought.

He grabbed the other, trying to lift him up in a standing position. Francis grunted, the man was a lot broader than him and it would require Francis to drape most of the body on top of his own. Francis took the bags in one hand, and the other was looped under and behind the man's arms. He would have to drag the man along too, which would slow down their travel back to the apartment.

Nonetheless Francis managed to do it, but he was forced at an odd bent angle to manage to lug the other person. Luck came on his side too as he found himself at the other side of the park and across the street from his apartment.

Slowly but surely they arrived; Francis not bothering to take a break to rest. He pushed himself until they got up the stairs and to his door, finally leaning the body against the wall and him collapsing to the ground panting. Francis rubbed his sore shoulder; he hated having to do anything physical.

He numbly searched for his key on his body, the feeling of the metal felt unreal in his fingers. But he got the key into its hole, and pushed the doorknob open. Francis got up again and set all his things inside before going back to retrieve the man into his home.

The man was dragged to the couch and Francis rushed to close the door to stop the chilly air enter. He sighed in relief, thankful that nothing had gone bad. He glanced over at the man on his couch; he stayed unconscious during the whole ordeal.

Francis covered the man in thick and lush blankets, but not before removing the man's worn-out boots. He was in a terrible state, much more worse than the day he came over to the shop. The man's pale face was set in a neutral expression, almost looking like a statue of an angel that was asleep.

Francis leaned over to check for a pulse –there was one, the blood softly pulsing through. His fingers lingered on the man's neck, and it slowly slithered up to the strongly defined jawline, then up to trace the cheekbone. His fingertips barely touched the cold flesh but he was tracing all of its features. He ran a finger down the bridge of the nose, noticing how rather prominent it was.

Francis pulled his hand back, coming into a realization of his actions. He stood up and walked a few steps away from the body, clutching his wrist and shaking his head. After a moment he looked back, slightly frowning and wondering when the man would wake up. He sharply inhaled as he took a look out the window.

All he saw was a swirling mass of white and black and all of its angry high-pitched screaming. Francis closed the curtains and turned off all the lights. He took a blanket and wrapped himself in it. He sat in the living room, in the silence and darkness. Francis would not get any sleep that night.

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Translations:

Even though some of these are painfully obvious I suppose it's good to have.

Merde: Sh*t

Pardon-moi: Excuse me

Mon ami: my (male) friend


	3. Chapter 3: Thank You

A/N: bluh bluh bluh just read the chapter. This one is sort of late, considering some of you people who put a review on this would've like to see it continue. Sort of. I hate school.

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Ivan stiffly stretched out his limbs and found himself surrounded by warmth and softness. 'Snow isn't warm…or soft.' He thought to himself. He blinked lazily, his vision still hazy and it took a moment to adjust to his surroundings. He stayed in his current position and realized that he wasn't outside at all.

The ceiling was a deep rich red color, wonderfully designed by an even deeper shade of red swirls and flower designs. His eyes wandered around, and next he saw a very prim and well laid out pieces of furniture and paintings all set out majestically, despite the living area being a rather small one.

A gentle snoring sound came from a direction behind him, and he promptly sat up to see who it was. It was a handsome blonde man, who was also wrapped in blankets. His head was tilted to the side and mouth was slightly agape. His chest rose with each breath intake and a lock of his hair slipped to his face.

Ivan stared at him in awe. It was the owner from the flower shop. His name was…Francis? Francis Bon…something. It was French, he recognized that from the man's wonderfully rich accent manner of speaking. Ivan rubbed his eyes, making sure he wasn't confusing Francis for any other blonde shoulder length haired person. But it was him alright, sleeping only a few feet away from him.

He heard a soft banging from the window outside, which was covered by a curtain. Ivan pushed the blankets away to slither out, but rather slowly. He allowed his limbs to stretch and adjust to the feeling of warm blood pumping through his system again. He walked -more like waddled- to the window and pushed the thick material away.

Outside, the snow storm was still raging on. There wasn't much to see, except for the angry swirling of the snow, which seemed to be pounding against the glass as if wanting to break in. Ivan's exhales left a foggy spot on the window, and he used his finger to draw a simple line. He started to enjoy himself in such simple act, and he started to make a bigger foggy spot to draw a sunflower. The squeaky sounds were muffled by the high-pitched winds.

Francis' head slipped from its position against his shoulder, causing him to jerk awake. He did not make a noise however, and stood still as he took a moment to take note of his surroundings. The Frenchman wasn't in his wonderfully soft bed, and he was in a seated position. That was all he manage to think up of, his mind was still groggy. He blinked a couple of times to get used to the darkness. Seems like he did manage to get some sleep despite what seemed like forever when he was awake. However there was a soft glow coming from another direction and he twisted his head to see what it was.

The blonde smiled, seeing his guest clearly enjoying himself as he drew images on the cold glass. He allowed his body to relax knowing now that the stranger was looking a lot better than his nearly frozen state hours before. The whiteness was giving out some light, if that was possible, and a nice glow to the other's face.

Francis took this time to observe the man better now. He was certainly looking alive and animated now, those beautiful purple orbs were filled with fascination and eagerness. His hair was longer than the last time Francis saw him, his bangs grown to nearly past the eyes. A pinkish tink developed his cheeks and tip of his large but narrow nose. Francis didn't want to disturb the other, so he turned back to get some more shut-eye.

His slight movement caused his blanket to ruffled, it was a subtle noise but Ivan heard it. Ivan stopped and turned his head towards Francis. He waited to see if the man was awake, but it appeared not. Ivan frowned slightly, unsure of what to do while he waited for the other. He went back to his spot on the sofa and snuggled into the blankets. He pulled his scarf up to his nose and closed his eyes. It wasn't long before he drifted back to sleep.

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Hours passed, and the snow finally let up. Francis opened his eyes, he feeling a lot more well rested. He stretched and stiffened his body, causing him to let out a long moan. The blonde relaxed, and looked around for the other man. Francis chuckled when he saw the other alseep again on the sofa. His stomach growled, and he promptly got up to make breakfast.

Francis tried to stay as quiet as possible, although the clattering of the pans and silverware made him grimance. He threw another glance at the other. No, he didn't wake. Francis continued on, cooking something out of the groceries he got last night. The delicious scent of sizzling eggs and brewing coffee eventually drifted to Ivan's nose, which caused him to immediately wake up.

Ivan had a ravaged look in his eyes as he rushed over to the kitchen, wanting, no, needing food. An excessive amount of saliva produced in his mouth, the liquid nearly drooling out of the poor man's mouth. His nosterils flared and his stomach roared, the sound very audiable to Francis a few feet away.

Francis spun around, nearly dropping the pan in shock of Ivan's sudden beastly state. He put his other free hand to his chest, gasping.

"Sacre bleu! Just.." He noticed that despite being a rather large man, Ivan was thinning, perhaps, starving? "Here here, sit! I'll get you your food!" Francis exclaimed, shooing Ivan to a seat by a small table. Ivan gave Francis a rather angry and desperate stare, but relented and obeyed immediately.

Ivan was jittery, his foot impatiently tapping the ground. Francis rushed to set the scrambled eggs and sausage on a plate in front of Ivan. He ignored the fork that was set down along with the plate, and he dove into his food using his fingers. Ivan hunched over his food, as if to protect it, and ate as fast as he could. He did not care for the rude noises he was making.

Francis wasn't sure what to do of the current scene, slowly backing away from the man. A pang of sadness hit his chest as the desperately filled his stomach. He turned to make more, assuming that one small plate woulnd't fulfill the other's hunger.

It didn't take long for Ivan to finish, and he still felt empty inside. He was about to snap at Francis for more until Francis set plates of simple French dishes and a glass of water in front of him. He didn't notice Francis' small sad smile, and dove in to gorge all the food. Francis sat across from the other, opting for a strong cup of coffee. He didn't bother to tell the other to slow down, his plea would only be ignored.

Several times the other choked on the food, only to violently cough it down and eat more. Soon the food was all gone, and the man bent over, clutching his abdomen in pain. Francis chuckled, shaking his head.

"You ate to fast."

No reply. Just a grunt.

"Are you okay?"

A hesitant nod.

"Just...stay seated. Let it go down." he murmured, trying to comfort the other. They didn't move, and a heavy silence settled down between them. Francis was unsure of what to do, but he did have questions. Oddly though, he was afriad to say anything else.

It was Ivan who finally spoke up. "You're Francis...Francis -" He paused, struggling to recall.

"Bonnefoy." He completed. Francis grinned, the man remembered his first name. "You were close! What is your name?" he asked.

"Ivan Braginsky." the other replied, a thick Russian accent revealing itself. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then went back to a blank stare.

Francis tilted his head to the side. "Ivan," he leaned forward. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Ivan shook his head again, shrugging. He took a napkin and slowly wiped food from the corners of his mouth and fingers. Francis watched him from over the rim of his cup as he sipped his coffee. He gained a little bit more confidence, and moved ahead with his questioning.

"Do you have a home? A place to stay?" he inquired. He already thought not, looking at the state of Ivan's clothes, his starving figure, and place he was found during the storm. His guess was correct when Ivan shook his head no. Francis sighed, an exhausted sigh.

Ivan kept his eyes down at his hands in front of him, mentally preparing himself for what might be a request to get him out soon. It wouldn't be the first time someone did that. A person would see his sorry state, then offer him food, a place to sleep. Then right after the first night they would ask him to get out. Or even use physical force to kick him out. This time would be the same.

"You can stay here as long as you'd like."

Ivan's head shot up. He looked at Francis at disbelief. Francis repeated himself.

"You can stay here as long as you'd like, Ivan. Until you can find yourself a proper home. To pay me back, you help me at my shop. Otherwise I will provide you everthing that's under this roof. Food, clothes, a bed." Francis reeled off, not exactly sure why he was being so generous to a stranger. Not exactly a stranger, but they weren't even friends.

But he wanted to take care of this man, he knew this man was broken on the inside. His gut feeling told him this was the right thing to do, and he would follow it.

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A/N: Okay! Well I am going to try so hard to make more updates. I already started writing the next one! I am going to try to make the next few chapters a lot longer! I don't think this is gonna be a smut thing, I suck at those. Reviews are greatly appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing the duo did once the snow eased was to go shopping for clothes. Ivan's were dirty and patched, and Francis' clothes would never fit. Ivan was broad build greatly differed from Francis' smaller and leaner body. All his clothes were too small.

Finally with great effort Francis found a rather bland shade of red jogging suit, but it was the only thing large and stretchy enough for the Russian. Ivan put it on, and it barely manage to fit. But it would have to do for the time being.

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Ivan wasn't sure what to do or look at. All the lighters and colors of the clothing store was overwhelming, so he stuck to staring at the plain white glossy floor.

They were in Francis' favorite expensive upscale store, having men's clothing ranging from very formal to casual and sportswear. Francis scoffed at Ivan and grabbed him by the arm to a random rack.

"This shouldn't be your first time buying clothes." he remarked at Ivan's awkwardness.

Ivan blushed and pulled up his scarf to his nose to cover up his face. "I don't like it here." was his muffled reply.

Francis rolled his eyes, "I'm sure we'll find something you'll like. But we won't if you don't look." He said, strongly emphasizing on the last word. Even then, Ivan stood there, allowing Francis to hold up a shirt or to see if a color looked nice on him or not.

Francis glared at him each time, hoping it would pressure him to look. But the blonde only earned a glare back. Ivan really didn't want to be here, even if it meant that he was stuck wearing the jogging suit or naked.

After an hour Francis finally pulled together a variety of clothing, and promptly took Ivan to a dressing room.

"Try them on, and then come out and show me how they look on you, _d'accord_?" Francis insisted as he shoved the articles of clothing into Ivan's arms and pushed the man into the small room. Ivan made a sound of protest but was cut off with a wave of a hand.

"I'll be waiting right over there." He said, backing a few feet away to an empty chair. "Go on." Francis gave an encouraging smile.

Dread was written across Ivan's face, and he slowly closed the door, sliding the lock. Once inside, he looked at the clothing with an uncertain look. He picked at the different textures of the materials. He hummed in approval, they were all very soft.

However he wanted to get this done and over with, so he chose a simple white blouse and black trousers. Ivan discarded the jogging suit into the strangely well-fitting clothing. One by one he buttoned his shirt, then buttoned the cuffs, and at last the zipper of his his pants.

He looked up at the mirror, and hummed in approval. Ivan tucked in the shirt and took a deep breath. He opened the door and stuck his head out, taking a peak around.

"Francis?" he called out. The Frenchman heard his name, and his head perked up. A grin lit up his face.

"Ivan!" He gasped, jumping up to see the other. "_Allons-y_!" He commanded, opening the door himself rather than wait for the other to do so. Once his eyes set on Ivan's full body, he gave a small applaud. "Tres bien, tres bien! I'm definitely going to get you this. Now put this aside and try on the rest." Then he slammed the door closed.

Ivan's mouth was agape; Francis didn't give him a chance to say anything or even react. He clearly liked it though, and so he decided he did too. One by one he tried each piece of clothing, setting aside the ones that didn't fit or like, and the ones that pleased him in another. He organized all the clothing back into their assigned hangers. A price tag caught his eye, and he turned his head to look at it.

The Russian gasped, the price was very high. One by one he looked at all the clothes he chose and their price tags, and mentally added up the total estimated price. He sputtered, surely Francis wasn't going to spend all this money for him! Out of sheer consideration he put away a lot more clothing, and reduced it down to just a pair of shirts and pants. He took a deep breath and nodded, feeling a lot better.

Ivan walked out and put the unwanted clothing away, and walked towards Francis, who seemed to be very agitated at the moment while furiously typing away on his phone. The blonde didn't noticed that Ivan was finally out, so he stood there by the side, waiting. Francis huffed and looked up, then back down at the small screen. Then back up again, suddenly surprised at Ivan's presence.

"Oh! _Je suis desolee_! I didn't hear you!" He said, flustered. Francis stood up and put the phone away, huffing. "_Stupide_ Gilbert, _stupide stupide chien_." He shook his head and laughed. "Only a friend of mines." He went back to smiling, but then to a disapproving look at such little Ivan chose. "That's all?" He questioned.

"Da.. " he nodded, blushing and looking away. He shuffled his feet and clutched the clothes tightly.

Francis narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."

Ivan felt his face burning up now, and hid his face. "_N-nyet_, Francis!" He objected.

Francis 'tsked' and laughed. "What are you so worried about, mon ami?" He patted Ivan's shoulder.

Ivan's eyes widen to look at Francis' and then looked down. "I didn't want you spending so much money...who can spend all that money?"

"Oh, you! Doesn't matter! Why do you think I brought you here?" he stated, as if the answer was so obvious. He rubbed Ivan's arm in reassurance, and went back to retrieve the abandoned clothing Ivan didn't bring along. "All this for you." The tone in his voice left no room for argument.

Ivan nodded and felt warmth blossom in his chest and was hot in embarrassment. He tagged behind Francis as he took all the clothing to the front cashier to pay for it all. He paid everything without even a glance at the total price and gave his credit card with ease. Ivan noticed that there was other items included, presumably for Francis himself.

He opted to look around instead, finally adjusting to the atmosphere at last. He heard Francis giving a small 'merci' and followed him out of the store. He put his hands into his pockets and stayed a few paces behind of Francis. He was lead to a small table, and collapsed onto a chair.

"Ah! What a day!" Francis gave an exasperated sigh. However he was in a good mood, and gave a happy look to Ivan. The other slid into the seat across the other, finally having relief for his aching legs. He stayed quiet, not really knowing what to say. So he stared at the table, and went into a noticeable trance.

Francis also stayed quiet, but to observe the Russian. He couldn't tell what the man actually thought or wanted. He was either too considerate or shy to voice any of his opinions. Maybe Ivan would eventually open up after staying with him a lot longer.

Francis' hand reached over to tug on the end of Ivan's tan scarf, which startled the man. He didn't say anything though, but he was interesting in what Francis was doing. Francis rubbed the thinning material. He twirled it several times until it curled into a knot, and then released it. Slowly, it unraveled.

In time, Ivan would unravel, too.

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Francis had to admit, Ivan was the best assistant he's had in years for his shop. He had a good eye for putting flowers together (especially anything with the sunflowers), he stayed diligent and hardworking, and never took a break, although Francis always had to physically restrain Ivan before he overworked himself to death. Business was still slow, but at least he had company. Life was good again.

It was a rather bleak day outside, and they had to bring some of the dying flowers back inside. The cold is such a joy-kill, Francis thought to himself. He was leaning against the counter register doing nothing in particular, except for enjoying a glass of wine. He couldn't see Ivan, but he could hear the man moving around items to clean up.

He felt a small tug pull at his lips, and he shook his head. Oh how life works, going from worrying about a mere stranger to having the same stranger working in his shop now, seeing him on a daily basis at home and at work. He wasn't complaining about it, in fact it was great finally having company.

He used to have lots of company, until that is, all his friends got into relationships while he was sticking out like a sore thumb, not being able to find anyone to settle down with. To cover that emptiness he started his shop, far away from everyone else and indulged in whatever he wanted with his money. But even with all the indulgences he brought himself it still didn't replace that warm he craved for from another one's flesh.

Francis let out a sigh, and drowned out his thoughts with another sip of wine. He hadn't considered Ivan as someone he would be with. It still felt...too impersonal,and the other still hasn't relented in being so open about himself. Francis couldn't imagine being with Ivan, he was too much of a soft cuddly bear to begin with. But he was a very delicious sight to see, and Francis refrained from thinking such thoughts, pushing it as far back as he could.

The other day he accidently walked in on Ivan in the bathroom, the man being half naked waist up. Francis couldn't resist but taking note of Ivan's firm body, which had finally lost its starving shape after several long days of hearty meals. It seemed like each muscle flexed just to impress Francis, and he quickly exited the room before Ivan could catch a glimpse of Francis' furiously blushing face.

A loud shatter snapped him out of his dream, immediately calling for Francis' attention. He rushed over to the origin of the sound, finding Ivan leaning over to scrap some bigger bits of a broken glass vase together. He was spurting out venomous words in Russian, trying to quickly clean up the mess and contain some water that spilled everywhere. Ivan didn't notice Francis, who stood from a distance to observe his actions.

Ivan rushed over to the opposite direction, coming back with a broom, dustpan, and towel in hand. He was rather clumsy under stressful situations it appeared, and he struggled with getting the broken pieces into the dustpan. Ivan crouched down to push a few stubborn pieces that was sticking to the floor because of the water.

"Ow! _Chto yebat'__!" _he groaned, pulling out a sharp piece that embedded itself into his index finger. The Russian flung the piece, and took a long look at his bleeding finger. Francis resisted the urge to run over and help, and wondered why Ivan hadn't asked for any help yet.

Ivan stared at the wound. It was small, but very deep. He wasn't moving at all, and a cold twisted smile spread on his face. Ivan squeezed his finger, which forced the blood to pool together and drip. The air turned heavy, and he let out a low chuckle as he watched the blood drip more. His usual soft purple eyes turned into a rigid and vivid shade of violet.

Francis held his breath, afraid the other would hear him. He's never seen this side of Ivan. It was nearly the polar opposite of his usual silent demeanor, and never showed an interest in blood or violence. This was different, this Ivan was...evil, almost. He shuddered as Ivan brought his finger to his lips, and then licked the blood off. Ivan pulled back his finger from out of his mouth with a loud 'smack!' Blood pooled up again, and Ivan pointed his finger up, causing the blood to stream down.

He looked strangely content, and walked away, keeping his eye on the wound. Francis

released his breath as Ivan disappeared into a back room and heard the sink water run. He walked away back to his place in the front counter, not knowing exactly what to do with what he saw. Francis decided to not say a word, besides, what good would it do to bring up such an odd topic? Many unnecessary questions would arise and maybe he misread the scene.

Francis didn't dare to look back or check on Ivan again that day, only seeing a glimpse of the grayish hair bobbing between the rows of flowers back and forth.

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A/N: Okay! Are we getting somewhere? So yes, to answer Readingpower's question, there will be Russia's scariness xD I just really enjoy the soft side a lot more. And I am gradually making each chapter longer! Update soon I hope!

Translations:

Allons-y: Let's go

Tres Bien: Very good

Stupide Chien: Stupid dog

Je suis desole: I'm sorry

Nyet: No

D'accord: Okay

Merci: Thank you

Chto yebat'! : What the fuck!

As you can see my French skills surpass those of Russian.


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